


outcasted, but accepting

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exile, Ghosts, Illness, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), been that way for a while :pensive:, courtesy of ghostbur, farming, or one ghost, tags will be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27981783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tommy has been exiled from New L'Manberg. He tries to distract himself from the shitheads that bother him constantly - apparently, farming helps well with that.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 82
Kudos: 515
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> any and all ccs in this work (regardless of actually appearing, or just mentioned) are based on their personas/characters in the dream smp. dream is not actually a bad guy etc

Tommy distracts himself with his work. There’s always more to be done. 

He mines iron ore and searches for gold and diamonds until his pack is too heavy. He chops down trees until his arms grow numb. He builds, expanding on the campsite’s meager defense, until his fingers start bleeding. He keeps going, and barely even sleeps anymore. He can’t fucking stop. 

If he stops, he starts thinking, and that was never good.

The first time Tommy skipped a night’s worth of sleep, it had only been a week after his exile. He had laid down in his tent and closed his eyes, listening to Wilbur’s idle humming as he began to drift off. But his mind was still buzzing with thoughts, tired as he was - and they all turned back to Tubbo. 

Tubbo, his best friend. 

Tubbo, his president. 

Tubbo, the one who betrayed him.    


Tommy wasn’t mad at Tubbo. Not really. He could never stay mad for long - and even if he refused to entertain the idea, Tommy knew in the back of his mind that his friend was trying to do what was best. It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

But there was still a nagging feeling, a thought that maybe Tubbo didn’t care, and was  _ happy _ to be rid of him. That everyone was happy that he was gone, so that everything could stay happy and nice and fun without Tommy to fuck everything up like he always did. After all, while maybe he knew there were some people on his side - Ranboo and Sam, for example - Tommy wasn’t stupid, he knew that a good amount of the people in the SMP hated him. And now he was completely alone, isolated save for the ghost of his oldest brother who was responsible for the teen’s not-unregular nightmares. 

That night, he stayed like that for hours until he eventually got up to continue his work. He needs to prepare - for what, Tommy isn’t sure beyond getting his discs back eventually, but its better than the alternative. 

And now, a month later, the teen had gotten only four hours of sleep in the past  _ two weeks _ . 

Wilbur had been following him today, down into the mines and then back up, and was hanging over Tommy’s shoulder as he sharpened an iron sword. He was talking about nonsense, had been all day. 

“I think you should get into fishing, Tommy,” Wilbur helpfully informs him with a grin. “It’s a very relaxing hobby, I’ve found, and the amount of salmon I find is definitely  amazing!”   


Tommy just lets out a “Mm,” in response, momentarily lifting the blade from the whetstone. Pretty sharp, he supposes. Good enough for right now. He gets up, strapping the  sword to his belt and grabbing a pickaxe. He starts heading to the little hole in the ground that leads down into the mines.   


“And fishing is a better activity than constantly mining, and such - say, Tommy, why don’t you take a break from mining, this week, by the way? We’re Lads On Tour, let’s relax!”

Tommy ignores him. His head hurts.   


“We’re on a vacation, like Dream said,” Wilbur babbles, increasingly ignorant of Tommy’s want for him to shut it, “Lads On Tour, y’know! What did we name this place, again? Logsted? Quite a good name, I’d say. Don’t you think so, Tommy?”   


Tommy finally stops in his tracks, a hand coming up to rub at his temples. He just squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep calm. It’s not the time to lash out, he just wants to keep working.    


“Wilbur,” he says, voice not as steady as he’d like, “leave me the fuck alone.”   


Wilbur drifts in front of him, frowning as he crosses his transparent arms. “Why? I thought you would like some company, Tommy, you’re alone quite a lot.”

“I don’t-” Tommy exhales sharply. “I don’t need company, Will, especially not from  _ you _ .”   


“Well, that was rude.” Wilbur looked hurt, frown deepening and eyebrows knitting together. “I’m your older brother, Tommy, I thought you liked being around me.”   


“Don’t start this, Will,” Tommy mutters, sending a glare at the apparition before continuing on his trek, walking through the other. “Not in the mood for you ‘not remembering’ what the fuck you did before you died.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur starts again, voice more hesitant, “Tommy, I’ve been worried about you.”   


Tommy stops again. 

“Have you- have you been sleeping? I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep very much… at all, really.”

“My sleep schedule is fine,” Tommy bites out, closing his eyes again. His headache worsens, bit by bit.    


“I know you’ve been feeling quite awful these past weeks- c’mon, Tommy, come take a nap.”   


Tommy doesn’t know why his brother is trying to take care of him. It’s so  _ strange _ to hear that concerned tone, urging him to sleep, come from Wilbur of all people. It’s such a stark difference from when he was alive. When Wilbur was alive, the most Tommy remembers is how paranoid he was, uncaring to anyone or anything except for his ultimate goal of destroying L’Manberg. He didn’t care when Tubbo had been shot, he didn’t care about  _ anything _ except for the fucking TNT. He was fucking insane, frankly, constantly yelling at Tommy and trying to manipulate him.

And now here, here is the ghost of that same man, trying to help him. 

Tommy doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the cold, static feeling of Wilbur’s hand brushing against his cheek makes his eyes snap open and stumble back. His vision is blurry and he brings up one arm to scrub away at his tears.  


“Tommy…”

"Shut up,” he chokes out, refusing to look at the ghost. “Shut up, Will, stop pretending to care about me. I already know you don’t, and no one else does either, so stop it.”   


“But I do care about you, Tommy, you’re my little brother.” Wilbur sounds so, so, confused, and hurt, and it makes Tommy’s head hurt so much more.    


“Then why couldn’t you act like it when you were alive?” The question bursts out on its own, tumbling out of Tommy’s lips without a second thought as sobs began to wrack his body. The lack of sleep is beginning to catch up to him and he fights against the urge to just let himself pass out right here. 

Wilbur is silent for a moment. “Tommy, I don’t… you know I don’t remember, that was- I’m Ghostbur, now, you know, that’s all Alivebur questions and I’m not- I’m dead now.”

“Yeah, I know, you asshole!” Tommy screams that one out, the pickaxe he had been holding finally slipping out of his grip. He rakes a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “I had to bury your fucking body, Will! You fucking- you left me, you  _ betrayed _ everyone and then you just fucking left, and now I’m all alone except now you’re here, just as a ghost, but that’s even worse than if you had lived!”

His voice is hoarse, and from the horrified silence from Wilbur, he doesn’t want to look at the other’s expression. But, he does anyway, chancing a glance. 

Wilbur looked devastated. His eyes were shiny with unshed tears and he looked so, so, guilty, and his hands were just fidgeting with the sleeve ends of his sweater. His gaze darts between Tommy and the ground, seeming to be shifting in place despite not even standing, just floating off the ground. 

“Tommy, I…,” Wilbur begins, his voice wobbly, “I’m sorry, I know I’ve hurt you too much.”

“Yeah, you have,” Tommy snaps back without a second thought. “All this shit is your fault. It’s- you’re supposed to be on my side, you’re supposed to have helped me, but you never fucking did, so now its too late. The same goes for Technoblade, too, except even more since at least he’s still fucking alive.”   


“Why don’t you talk to Techno?” the ghost suggested weakly, rubbing the back of his neck.    


“Because he doesn’t care,” Tommy responds in a low tone, closing his eyes again. No more tears had come out. “He only cares about Phil.”   


Wilbur didn’t have a reply for that.    


“Leave me alone, Will. If I die of exhaustion, then oh fucking well.”   


The guilty ghost stands alone in the campsite as Tommy picks up his pickaxe and leaves.

* * *

Dream visits Tommy a few days later. 

Wilbur had left the teen alone, just watching in the distance. A few times, in the corner of Tommy’s eye, he could see the ghost hesitantly drift towards him, form flickering and nearly disappearing, before going farther away. He wonders, vaguely, if Wilbur would ever disappear entirely - if he decided he finished whatever he was meant to do, then left. 

Tommy decides he doesn’t want to think about it. 

The next time he talks to Wilbur is when the ghost wakes him up sometime early in the morning. Tommy had passed out the night before, barely getting in his bed before going unconscious. It was the most sleep he had gotten in weeks. 

“What do you want, Will,” he mumbles sleepily, ignoring the apparition’s cold hand swiping through his hair. 

“Dream’s here,” the ghost answered with a hum. “He says he wants to talk to you.”

Tommy mutters a few curses under his breath, taking a few more seconds to himself before sitting up. Might as well get this over with. 

He grabs his green bandanna - a gift from Tubbo, from so long ago, that he can’t bear to get rid of - and ties it around his neck, then slowly stands up. He swipes his sword from the ground beside his bed, stumbling out of his shitty little tent. 

And there Dream was, in all his smug glory, looking like a fucking asshole. 

“What is it, bitch?” Tommy bites out, seeing Wilbur drift out of the tent himself in his peripheral. 

“Just came to see how you were, Tommy,” the masked man says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”   


“Yup,” the teen mutters, popping the ‘p’. “Come to taunt me?”   


Dream laughs, a cold, harsh sound. Tommy wasn’t sure how the others back- back  _ home _ could stand it. “No, of course not. I’m being genuine - I told you, I’m a friend.”   


“Whatever.”   


Tommy runs a hand through his hair and promptly starts ignoring Dream as he trudges over to the proper campsite of Logsted. He needs to go mining again today, he thinks - he needs more iron, for tools and to fix his shitty armor, and it wouldn’t hurt to look for more diamonds. 

He could hear drifts of conversation between Dream and Wilbur behind him, and half-focuses on it. He stills in his stride when he hears his name - they were talking about him? - but quickly forces himself to continue. 

“He hasn’t been sleeping much?” that was Dream, sounding curious. Concerned, but it sounds forced. Fake.

Tommy heard Wilbur sigh. “No, last night was the most sleep he had gotten in a while. I keep trying to give him some blue but he won’t take it anymore.”

Dream hums. “Just leave him, Wilbur. Why are you still here? Aren’t you tired of listening to him complain and whine?”   


Tommy feels his eye twitch as he steps into the campsite, going to the barrels he uses for storage. He keeps pretending he doesn’t hear the conversation behind him. 

“He’s my brother.” Wilbur sounds confused. 

“He is,” Dream agrees. “Not that you cared about that when you were alive.”   


Will goes silent for a moment. “... I’m not Alivebur anymore, Dream.”   


“I know.”   


Wilbur doesn’t reply, but even Tommy can tell what he wanted to ask -  _ do you? _

It’s hard to make that distinction - between who Wilbur was, and who he is now. Tommy knows best of all how hard it is. He looks at the ghost’s face, and despite how grayed out and translucent the other is now, he can’t help but think of his brother, still alive, and all the things he had done.    


There was a lot of good. Tommy remembers being a kid, following after his older brother, idolizing him. But there was also a lot of bad - bad things that overshadowed everything else. 

Tommy finds his armor and pickaxe, shaking himself out of his thoughts, but before he can tug the rusted metal onto his body, Dream’s voice rings out. 

“Hey, Tommy, give me your armor.”   


Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Not fucking again. Every so often, Dream makes him give up his valuables and just destroys them. It’s happened with the armor, before - and his nether portal, and his ender chest. He’s so fucking tired. 

“Tommy.” The masked man’s voice lowered, dipping into a threatening tone. 

“Can’t you leave me alone?” Tommy asks, breath catching at the end. His head is starting to hurt. 

He hates the chuckle that comes out of Dream. “C’mon, if I left you alone, you’d eventually get powerful, maybe even get netherite. Can’t have that happen.”   


“It’s not like I’ll ever be able to beat you anyway,” the teen spits, turning his head so he can stare at the man. “I fucking get it, I’m alone with my dead brother and I’m exiled, look at me, you can make fun of me, kick me while I’m down. Isn’t it boring, now? It’s been like two months, asshole.”   


“Tommy, give me the armor.” Dream’s tone leaves no room for argument.    


“Go fuck yourself.” Tommy threw down the armor, ignoring the loud clattering it makes. He also ignores Wilbur’s unsubtle flinch.    


He doesn’t want to go mining anymore. He wants a fucking nap. 

Tommy shoves past Dream, shoulder checking him as he storms off, back to his tent. Wilbur is following him, wringing his hands, his ghostly presence feeling like ice at the teen’s back. Tommy can hear Dream laughing to himself behind him, and resists the urge to whip around and throw a punch. It’s not worth it.    


It never was. 

* * *

Another week passes. Tommy’s brother - the alive one - visits.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says softly.    


The teen is ignoring him again. 

“Tommy,” Wilbur repeats, slightly louder. “Tommy. Technoblade is here.”   


He grumbles under his breath, cracking an eye open. He hadn’t even been sleeping, just lying in bed, but still. “What does that fucker want?”

“He has food, Tommy.”   


At that, the teen sits up, taking a moment to stretch and listen to the pops in his back. Technoblade visited every few weeks, usually tossing his younger brother a pack of food before taking off again. Of course, mocking every time. Tommy hated it. 

He secretly likes seeing his brother, even if just the sight of his pink hair made him bristle with rage. He hasn’t forgiven him. 

Once again, Tommy gets up and stumbles out of his tent, scowling at Technoblade. The tall man was just sitting in the grass, eyes lifted to the sky, watching the clouds drift by. 

“Hello,” Techno greets, eyes flicking to him before returning to the sky. 

“... Hey,” Tommy mutters, running a hand through his hair before sitting on the ground himself, across from the other. “Will says you have food.”   


“Yeah.” Techno stops his cloud-watching, finally, to dig in his pack for a moment, producing a much smaller bag. He hands it off to his younger brother, who grasped it  without a second thought. He already knows it was mostly bread and potatoes. 

“Thanks.” Tommy didn’t have the energy to be angry today. He had harsh words in his mind, but every time he opened his mouth to say them, they died out on his tongue. 

So, he just digs out a loaf of bread from the bag, and rips off a chunk to eat. 

They sit in silence for a while. That was one thing Tommy could appreciate from Technoblade - the man knew that conversation wasn’t always needed. The teen liked to talk, or rather, he used to, but when he needed to be quiet, Techno didn’t mind the silence. 

Tommy prefers the silence, nowadays. 

But, as usual, it gets ruined. 

“Have you been sleepin’?” Technoblade asks, and Tommy feels a stab of irritation. 

“None of your business, bitch,” he spits back, tearing off another chunk of bread with his teeth. “Not like you care.”   


“I don’t,” Techno agrees, lifting one shoulder in a sort-of half shrug.    


“Then fuck off.”   


Technoblade rolls his eyes. “No.”   


“Why not?” Tommy groans, aware of how whiny his voice sounded. “I’m tired of talking to you, tired of talking to Dream - I’m tired of Wilbur too, floating around me and shit. No one else visits me but you shitheads.”

“Tubbo hasn’t come?” The surprise in his brother’s voice is evident.    


Tommy’s scowl just grows deeper. He thinks of before his nether portal was broken, he caught sight of Tubbo coming through it. No words were exchanged, they just stared at each other - and Tubbo left. 

“No,” he ends up saying, even if it wasn’t technically true. “He hasn’t.”   


Surprisingly, Techno frowns, looking almost bothered. Tommy sort of wanted to laugh. What, is he feeling guilty for leaving him alone? For betraying them, back in the war? For being a shit older brother?   


Instead of apologizing, or just saying anything else, Technoblade mutters out, “I have to go soon.”   


“Yeah, of course you do,” Tommy says, eyeing him. He’s nearly finished with his bread loaf.    


“I’ll be back,” his brother waves his hand in a vague fashion, “at some point. You know.”   


“Yeah.”

A moment of awkward silence, then Technoblade turns, a hand on the trident looped on his belt. Tommy turns away from his brother’s retreating back, rubbing at the side of his head. He could feel a migraine coming on.    


“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, standing a little ways away. “Would you like some blue?”   


“No thanks, Wilbur,” Tommy calls back, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He adds on a, “Screw off.”

The teen ignores Will’s hurt expression and turns his attention to the bag of food from Technoblade, going through it. Not much was in it - bread and potatoes, like he had guessed earlier. There’s also some carrots, just a few, and interestingly enough, wheat seeds too. Tommy stares at the gifts, biting his lip. Did Technoblade want him to start a farm, or something? 

He snorts at the thought, closing up the bag. Fat chance. He didn’t like farms, beyond little ones that he often ended up ignoring. 

Though, he keeps thinking about it for the rest of the day, as he organizes his items just for something to do. Maybe a farm isn’t too bad of an idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will not guarantee ill continue this, i dont quite have a plan for how i want this to work out, though i have a bit of the next chapter written already.  
> it won't be super angsty, tommy deserves to chill. itll be basically him accepting his exile, eventually warming more up to/forgiving ghostbur and technoblade as well, and after that im not sure right now. dream doesnt get love fuck him


	2. Chapter 2

As it turns out, keeping up a proper farm was harder than Tommy thought. 

He had to make sure all the crops could get water, and that the ground was tilled properly, and that he didn’t accidentally trample on them. He had to upkeep it everyday, or anything that grew would be overcome by weeds eventually, and harvest anything he could or else it would just rot in the dirt. It was tiring. 

But the teen kept at it, determined to get it right. 

Dream comes around a few days after Tommy originally started the farm. The masked man just has his hands in his pockets as he surveys the work the teen had put in, head cocked to the side. 

“What are you doing?” he asks at some point. 

Tommy grunted, glancing at Dream and pausing from weeding. “I’m farming, bitch, what does it look like?”

“Thought you weren’t planning to stay here permanently,” Dream comments, an amused lilt in his voice. “That’s all.”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Tommy grumbles, though a voice in the back of his head tells him that’s a lie. “Figured I should get a more self-sufficient food source is all. Can’t rely completely on the animals, or Technoblade bringin’ me shit.”

Dream laughs, but it isn’t cruel right now, Just friendly. Like how Tommy remembers, before Dream became this shitty fucking villain. “Yeah, makes sense.”   


“Damn right it makes sense! Now fuck off, go bother someone else.”   


The masked man doesn’t leave, continuing to hover around Tommy and his farm for the rest of the day, but the teen found that he didn’t give a shit. He still hates Dream - that won’t change, ever. But this new activity takes up his mind, and he thinks that’s alright right now.

Tommy keeps up his farm. When he sees the tops of carrots pushing up from the dirt, and his wheat growing taller, he feels oddly proud. He hasn’t felt proud of anything for a while, he thinks. It’s strange. 

He thinks he likes it. 

He half expects Dream to destroy the farm at some point. It’d be completely on brand - destroy something Tommy has worked hard on, make him start over. But the man never does. He visits Tommy a little more often, now, nearly every day instead every few, asking quiet questions about the farm and what the teen is doing while he works. It's strange. It makes Tommy nervous, but he ignores his feelings, focusing on his work like usual.

He asks a question when Tommy stabs a spade into the ground, digging a hole. “What are you digging for?”   


“For a water pool,” the teen answers absently. He’s too used to the other’s questions after a few weeks of this to bitch. “I’m expanding the farm.”   


Dream tilts his head, and though he’s still wearing his mask, Tommy feels like he’s raising his eyebrows. “Why? Isn’t it big enough? It’s just you out here.”   


Tommy pauses, gazing at the man for a moment. “It’s just something to do, bitchboy, why do you care?”

Dream just laughs, hands held up in front of him with his palms turned up. “Calm down, Tommy.”   


“I’m perfectly calm,” Tommy drawls, returning to his digging, “as much as I can be with your green ass around.”   


“So, pretty calm?” Dream says. “You don’t scream at me every time I visit, anymore. Got too tired?”   


“None of your business,” the teen mutters petulantly. 

In truth, he  _ did _ get too tired. It was tiring bitching at Dream, yelling at him every time he came. It was easier to accept that the masked man was going to keep visiting. It was easier to just talk to the other, even if Dream’s voice made him tense up even now. His head hurts a lot these days, and giving in was so much easier.

The old Tommy wouldn’t have given up, he thinks. But he’s not that Tommy anymore. He’s different now.

“Where’s Wilbur?” 

That one makes Tommy hesitate. To be honest, he hadn’t seen the ghost very much lately. Just wisps at the edge of his vision, and sometimes late at night when he tries to sleep cold fingers card themselves through his hair soothingly. He sort of wants to seek out Will, apologize for being rude maybe, but so far he hasn’t allowed himself to. 

He just shrugs. “Dunno, don’t care.”

Dream hums in response, and Tommy gets a vague urge to punch him. He pushes it away and continues his work. 

* * *

It’s an interesting day when Technoblade shows up again. 

Tommy is working on his farm - the potatoes have grown, it’s time to harvest them he thinks - and hears the telltale sign of someone bursting from the water and landing unsteadily onto the coast at his back. He figures it was his brother, there weren’t many other people that liked to travel by trident. 

“You started a farm?” And, yeah, there it was. Techno sounded uncharacteristically curious, his monotone voice dropping for the moment. 

“Yeah, and it’s a good fuckin’ farm, too,” Tommy calls, looking at his brother from where he sits in the dirt, on his knees. “Jealous, bitch?”   


Technoblade snorts, crossing his arms. “I used to take care of several fields of potatoes all by myself. This little plot of land is nothing.”   


“Little plot of-” Tommy huffs. “Yeah, whatever.”   


His brother walks around the edge of the farm, Tommy see in the corner of his eyes as he returns to his work. The man has a sort of appraising look on his face, and the teen hopes he wasn’t imagining the hint of pride lurking in his eyes. Then he squashes that hope away - he’s supposed to hate Techno! The man who betrayed him, betrayed L’Manberg!

Even if Tommy isn’t apart of L’Manberg anymore. 

... He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Where’s Wilbur?” Technoblade asks, after a few moments, and Tommy bites back a snappy reply. 

“I don’t know,” the teen says, instead, trying so, so hard to not start yelling. Getting mad just doesn’t end up well for him. After a beat, he adds, “I told him to screw off a while ago.”   


Technoblade was directly in his line of vision, and he can see him get a disapproving look. 

“Fair, I guess. But how long ago was that?”   


Tommy pauses. “Last time you visited. Honestly, I think he’s just at L’Manberg.”   


“Thought he wanted to stay with you, for the most part,” Techno comments. 

Tommy grits his teeth, and his words come out more bitter than he meant them to. “Yeah, well, everyone except that green fuck has abandoned me anyway, so who gives a shit.”   


He turns away, not wanting to see whatever expression Technoblade made at  _ that _ , and stalks off. He has a sack of potatoes slung over his shoulder - it was heavy as shit, but he’s been getting stronger lately - and sets off back to Logstedshire. In the back of his head, he wonders, is Dream coming around today? It’s been a few days. He hopes he doesn’t, he really doesn’t want to see his brother and Dream talk to each other. 

He’s not sure which would be worse; if they acted all buddy-buddy, or if there was tension so thick he could cut it with a butter knife. 

“Tommy!” 

The teen hopes Technoblade is calling him for literally anything else other than something about Dream. 

“What, bitch, I’m busy!” he hollers back, dumping the potatoes into a barrel. 

“Dream says he wants to talk to you!” is the reply that makes Tommy’s heart drop. 

Every time Dream wants to  _ just talk to you, Tommy, I’m your friend _ something bad happens. Something bad  _ always _ happens. 

Tommy glances behind him, at the entrance to his campsite, catching a sight of a familiar green hoodie a ways away. He can see him, see Dream standing with Technoblade by his farm. God. 

He has a feeling he knows what’s going to happen. 

Tommy trudges out of Logstedshire reluctantly, arms crossed. “Hey, Dream,” he calls out once he’s close enough, voice resigned and flat. 

Let’s get this over with.   


“Hey, Tommy!” the masked man greets, seeming overly cheerful. “How are you?”   


“Fine.” The teen stares at Dream with a neutral expression, determined not to get angry. Not yet, anyways. “What do you want, bitch?”

“I see you got quite a farm going.” Dream’s mask is askew, just enough so that his cold smirk shows. He seems to purposely not answer the teen’s question.

“Yeah, I do.” Tommy sneaks a glance at Technoblade - his brother looks vaguely uncomfortable at the interaction in front of him, standing off to the side. He goes back to staring resolutely at Dream. 

The masked man lets out a hum, walking along the edge of the farm, then up to Tommy, until he stands right in front of the teen, only a foot away. “Here,” he says, suddenly, tossing something to the other.    


Tommy catches it instinctively without even thinking about it and- oh. He frowns. 

A flint and steel. 

“You know what to do with that, Tommy?” 

Tommy doesn’t reply at first. He just turns the flint and steel over in his hands, inspecting it, watching how the metal bits catch the sunlight and go shiny. His heart is beating too loud, and he can barely hear Dream speak again over the blood rushing in his ears. 

“ _ Tommy _ .”

The teen looks up at the masked man, not speaking. 

“Tommy,” and that smirk looks downright malicious now, “I want you to burn down your farm, until every last plant is ash.”

Tommy’s fingers are itching. He goes back to staring at the flint and steel, feeling the cold metal on his hands. His chest tightens and he can barely breathe. Why, why, why - the minute he has something he cares about, that he works hard on, it has to be taken away. It’s always taken away. He was so stupid to not worry about this, to not worry that Dream would do something like this, and the fact that it has to be  _ Tommy’s _ fault this time just makes it worse. It makes his breath hitch and tears gather in the corner of his eyes, tears that blur his vision just slightly. 

But Tommy feels his body move, take slow steps towards his farm, almost not of his own accord. He can hear Dream behind him, now, taunting him, smug as all hell. 

“Come on, Tommy, you can do it,” the masked man crows condescendingly. “You don’t need a farm, I can give you food, can’t I? It’s not like there’s many people to provide for out here. Just you,  _ alone _ .”   


Tommy’s head hurts. It always hurts when Dream is around. 

“Tommy,” another voice calls out, and the teen stops in his tracks, suddenly remember who else was there. “What the hell are you doing?”   


“Stay out of this,” Dream retorts, smug tone dropped in favor of irritation. 

Tommy looks over his shoulder, eyeing the two men. Dream was unsubtly glaring at Technoblade, while the latter had crossed arms, staring calmly at the teen. 

“What are you doing?” his brother repeats, an odd glint in his eye. Contemplation, maybe. Or something similar.

“I’m- I’m gonna,” Tommy starts, fumbling with the flint and steel. He flinches when Dream’s head swivels over to look at him. He feels so nervous, like he’s about to fucking puke from it or something. He wants a nap. “I have to, uh- burn- burn the farm.”

“Why?”   


_ Why? _

That was a weird question. 

“Huh,” he mumbles, cogs turning in his head, “Huh. Why. I dunno, actually.”   


Did he _have_ to do every single thing Dream said? He knows that the masked man wouldn't hesitate in killing him, especially if Tommy dared to go back to his lands, but where was that line? How far could the teen go in defying him, until he crossed it? Would Dream even kill him over something like this? What would be the point? 

There would be none, he decides. This is a scare tactic, like everything else was. 

And Tommy lifts his head, fixing Dream with a stare of his own. He’s feeling a rush of confidence, one that he hasn’t felt since before he was exiled, before he’s had to deal with Dream every other day with no one else in between most of the time. He’s practically vibrating now, he thinks dimly, he can feel energy thrumming throughout his chest and the rest of his body. 

Tommy grins sharply, raising his voice. “I don’t wanna burn down my farm, dickhead, that’s fuckin’ stupid. What are you gonna do about it?”   


Dream is silent, for a few seconds. 

A few short, heavenly seconds. 

He stares at Tommy, then Technoblade, like he’s thinking, calculating his luck. Tommy’s confidence dims. 

“You should fuck off, Technoblade,” Dream remarks, like he’s just talking about the weather.    


He marches forward suddenly, and Technoblade frowns and draws his sword, but a few things happen in fast succession. 

Dream snatches the flint and steel from Tommy’s grasp and quickly sets fire to the field himself before the teen could even blink. It hadn’t rained in a while, so the fire spread and spread, quickly overtaking the wheat and potatoes, and all Tommy can do it  _ stare _ . He doesn’t register the fact Technoblade attacks Dream, though he can hear the clanging of metal behind him. He only barely recognizes the wave of heat in front of him, stepping back so he stays out of its range. 

He just stares at the raging fire with a blank expression.

This is why he doesn’t challenge Dream anymore. He shouldn’t have gotten cocky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how would yall feel about techno pov next chapter perhaps. i am thinking i am simply thinking tm :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT HAPPY HOLIDAYS YALL  
> im not even that happy with this chapter but i really jus wanted to get it out so here. ill try to update sooner than i did this one, no guarantees tho <3

Technoblade isn’t the best older brother. 

Now, see, the thing is, he already knows this - he doesn’t have to be told ten times over by anyone but himself. He’s a selfish man and he accepted it a long time ago. He loves his family, sure, but he isn’t a caring man even to the people he loves and never has been, except for Phil at the best of times. 

And yet, watching the resigned way his little brother speaks to Dream makes his chest tighten with a familiar anxiety. 

And yet, he is suddenly filled with anger, when he hears Dream tell Tommy to burn his farm. 

He has to grit his teeth and make his hold on his trident impossibly tight, trying to keep from lashing out. Not yet, not yet. 

So he asks Tommy  _ why _ he should burn the farm down. Why does he have to do it? Why should he listen to Dream? Technoblade is almost proud, he thinks, of the sudden confidence his little brother gains, after he thinks for a few seconds. The familiar, daring look in Tommy's eyes, as he challenges Dream. And then, once again, rage overtakes Technoblade at the first spark of flames. 

He abandons his trident, unsheathing his sword to rush at Dream, who turns and blocks with his shield without a second thought. The fight doesn’t last long; Techno’s movements are sloppy and rough, but it gets the job done once a final arc of his sword sends a large crack into the middle of the other man’s shield. 

Dream stumbles back, taking a moment to look down at the broken shield, tilting his head in a way that makes the mask itself almost look disappointed. 

“Interesting.” Dream hums, the mask facing Technoblade once again. “Alright, lesson learned. I won’t take my chances with you around.”

Technoblade has half a mind to ask the other what in the hell he meant, when the masked man quickly teleports off with a pearl and, presumably, leaves the area. He just sighs, gaze flicking to Tommy. Poor kid. 

The teen is still in front of the fire, watching the flames roar, and from this angle Techno could only just barely see his devastated expression. He doesn’t like the anxiety in his chest unfurl, coupled with brotherly concern. He grimaces. 

“Tommy,” he calls over, trying to soften his normally rough voice. 

His little brother doesn’t even react. 

Technoblade chews on his lips - an old habit, one he really needs to stop since the pig-like tusks he sports rip into his skin a little more than needed - and steps forward. He doesn’t like being this hesitant, but he also isn’t used to wanting to comfort his family. After yet a few more minutes of delay, he finally goes forward again, closing the gap between him and the teen. He puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, mouth opened to say something, when his brother suddenly  _ jerks _ away. As if being touched scares him, or something.

Oh, Technoblade does  _ not _ like that fearful expression Tommy gives him.

“Dream is gone,” he tries, seeing if that would make the other calm down. 

It, unfortunately, does not.

To be honest, his statement seems to make the teen even more distressed. 

“He’ll be back,” Tommy mumbles, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair. His voice was shaky, and so uncharacteristically  _ scared _ . “He’s- he’s always back, the only other one who visits. He- well. Guess he’s my friend, really.”   


“Friend?” Techno echoes, frowning. 

“He’s the only other one who visits,” Tommy just repeats with a shrug, voice louder. 

The teen’s gaze drifts to the still-burning field and tears seem to glisten in his eyes. Technoblade feels frozen - what does he do? Is he supposed to hug his brother, say comforting words? He thinks so. It’s what Wilbur would have done. It’s what Phil would do. They were always much better at comforting than Techno was, they understood other people so much better. 

Hesitant, movements jerky and unsure, Technoblade plants a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, grip tight. The teen jolts again, head snapping to stare at him, and without a second thought Techno pulls his brother into a hug. 

“Techno,” Tommy gasps, and he thinks he can hear a bit of a sob caught in his brother’s voice, “I’m not- you don’t have to comfort me, big man, I’m fine, I-”   


Tommy’s voice cracks and, oh yeah, he was definitely crying. 

Technoblade bites at his lip again, eventually muttering out, “Sorry for leavin’ you here alone. Dream’s kind of shitty company to have.”

“He’s my only friend,” Tommy says, like he’s trying to convince himself. But he sounds so confused, and it makes Techno’s heart hurt. 

“Come on,” Techno eventually mutters, peeling himself away from his little brother, though keeps a hand on his shoulder. He just leads the teen to that campsite he can’t remember the name of, grinding his teeth into dust. 

* * *

Technoblade isn’t exactly what you’d call the most observant man. He isn’t stupid, certainly not, but he has a habit of getting distracted too easily and focusing on the wrong thing. But even he can see when his little brother is hurting.

To be fair, he’s been seeing it for weeks - well, months. He’s seen it ever since he even arrived in these lands. It just hasn’t been… quite like this. 

Back in the beginning, when Tommy and Wilbur had been outcast by Schlatt, Tommy had acted a little odd, just  _ off _ somehow. But at the time, Techno didn’t let himself feel too worried - the teen was still loud, and stubborn and argumentative, just as he’d always been. Even when he had grown progressively quieter as the months had gone by, as Techno was more distant and Wilbur grew more erratic and unstable.

But, now? Tommy, by himself in exile, with the company of only Dream? He had gone dead silent. 

Technoblade doesn’t like it. 

Even now, after Dream left them be, and Techno had dragged him back to the campsite, the teen had just situated himself against one of the walls, and is now staring at the ground. He could be mistaken for being deep in thought, if it weren’t for the almost completely blank expression he’s wearing. 

Technoblade stands off to the side, not quite in front of the other, contemplating what to do. Is he supposed to talk to him? He isn't sure. Tommy might not even want to talk right now, if his depressive state is anything to go by. Though his brother hasn’t really been talking much at all lately anyways - should Techno force him? That’s what Wilbur would do. That might not be a good idea, though, and he really doesn’t want to deal with Tommy yelling at him, that might be a bit much. Even if it’s what Wilbur would have done - actually,  _ especially _ if that’s what Wilbur would have done. Techno is already feeling just a little overwhelmed, what with all these thoughts swirling in his head, coupled with anxiety and uncertainty, and he really wishes Phil were here to help, or just anyone else-

“Are you going to keep standing there like an idiot?” Tommy’s quiet, yet extremely irritated, voice cut through his thoughts. 

Techno blinks, focusing on Tommy, studying the other’s scowl. Noting the reddened eyes still glistening with unshed tears. He hesitates, just a second longer - enough for the teen’s scowl to deepen even more - before he slowly makes his way over to sit beside Tommy, shifting his cape so that it drapes over the otheher as well. 

“Do you want to.. talk about it?” Techno awkwardly asks, hands fidgeting in his lap. “About Dream. I mean.”   


He is not good at this. 

This is evident when Tommy just hisses in response, pulling his knees up to his chest. “Why would I?”

“It’s- I mean, obviously he’s… not very good company,” Techno says, after a pause. “Just seems like somethin’ you should start, uh.. thinkin’ about, talkin’ about. Healin’, I guess?”   


“ _ Healing _ ,” Tommy mutters, in a tone Technoblade vaguely recognizes as mocking, but he chooses to ignore that for now. 

“Recovery isn’t done in a day, right?” he continues, hedging on the hope his little brother hasn’t tuned him out by now. “So you can talk about it, you know, if you want-”   


“I don’t,” the teen cuts him off with a tone barely restraining anger. “Drop it.”   


Technoblade shrugs, ignoring how his heart aches, just a little. “Okay.   


* * *

Technoblade isn’t the best older brother. 

But he’ll do a lot for those he cares about, even when it’s for an maddening younger brother. 

When he looks at his little brother, noting how he’s grown too skinny and there are now dark circles under his eyes, a more animalistic part of him, deep inside, screams that he needs to  _ protect his kin _ . It’s been a long time since he’s let his instincts take over. But now he’s tempted to let them, for Tommy. 

He needs to fix this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i know i have that other fic ("good things don't happen to heroes" if youre curious) but im not invested in that one anymore im SORRY but im trying to update it for those of you who came from that one 

Tommy has always had a burning sort of anger in him. 

It’s something that has developed over the years, that started when he was younger, having to learn how to fight before he understood why he even needed to. Becoming bruised and bloody, feeling injustice and rage stir in him as a child, before Phil found him in the wilds and took him in. 

It continued as he grew, following him during the Disc War, following him when he joined Wilbur to create L’Manberg, and still following him, now, as he sits in exile. 

He’s angry. He wants to lash out at everything, everyone, until they all just leave him alone, leave him be. He doesn’t want to see anyone. He wants to be alone.  _ But _ , a voice in the back of his head whispers,  _ that’s not really true, is it? _

It doesn’t matter. 

What  _ does _ matter, he reckons, is getting his damn farm started up again. He refuses to submit. Not like this. 

After Technoblade’s eventual departure - and Tommy longs for him to stay for more than a few hours, not that he’d ever admit it - he gets up, looking for his rusted iron hoe. The smell of smoke is heavy in the air, growing the more he drifts towards his burnt fields. It just makes him angrier, gripping the hoe tightly in his right hand. 

Fuck Dream. He bares his teeth in some fo rm of a snarl, letting the rage fill him up as he starts stabbing at the blackened dirt with his tool.  _ Fuck _ Dream. He hates him so much. He wants to take a sword and run him through. He wants to take the man’s own axe and chop off his fucking head. 

Tommy winces, movements faltering. 

Maybe he was getting a little too angry. 

He was scared, sometimes, of falling prey to those quiet, burning desires he gets, that scream for blood and violence. It’s nothing like the voices that Technoblade used to speak about, but something similar, that makes him lash out and scream and make enemies at every chance he gets. The repetitive movements of stabbing at the ground with the hoe, of clearing away the smoldering, unsalvageable plants, make it better, though. It lets his mind go blank, just focus on the monotonous task at hand. 

He does not sleep that night. 

* * *

Wilbur is back the next day, and Tommy wonders if he’ll ever get a break. 

The ghost looks fainter than normal and is wandering about Logstedshire with a lost expression, gazing dully at the wooden walls and pile of barrels. Tommy runs into him the second he stepped into the encampment - he catches sight of the other too late and tries to stop his stride too late, just to pass through him. It makes something curl in Tommy’s stomach as he passes through the chilly apparition, makes him want to vomit. 

Wilbur drifts back, tilting his head, and his expression still seems confused, lost, like he doesn’t know what’s going on. But then it visibly brightens and he smiles, and for a few short seconds he almost looks alive again. Tommy’s headache returns, and he just weakly smiles back, unsure of what to do. 

“Hi, Tommy!” Wilbur says, clapping his hands. “I got lost, I think. I can’t remember where I’ve been.”   


_ You can’t remember a lot of things _ , Tommy wants to say. He bites it back. 

“That’s alright,” he says instead, trying so hard to be kind today. “Do you want to help me with my farm, Will?”

“Your farm?” Wilbur echoes. 

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, going to the barrels, searching for his extra seeds. “I need to plant today, and finish fixing the rest of the field.”

He can feel Wilbur’s cold presence at his back, following him. “I don’t remember farming.”   


“No, you were never a farmer.” It feels wrong to keep biting back sarcastic remarks, but even wronger to be rude to Will. 

“I do remember potatoes, though. Quite a lot. Did we have a farm, Tommy?”   


Laughter bubbles out of Tommy's lips suddenly, remembering the now-abandoned farm in Pogtopia. “Techno did, yeah. Man is obsessed with potatoes, y’know. Ought to marry them, I reckon.”   


“I don’t think you can marry potatoes, Tommy.”   


“Sure you can! You fucked a salmon, Techno can marry potatoes.” 

Will chuckles, then, and Tommy grins a little as he tosses some seeds and carrots into a bag. 

“Sally wasn’t actually a salmon.”

Pause. Hold on. 

“She wasn’t?” Tommy whips around to stare at his brother. 

Wilbur just smiles, innocent. “Of course not. Did you believe me when I said she was?”

His lips part and his eyes widen in shock. “Well, yeah-” he splutters, “I didn’t think much about it, don’t smile at me like that you dickhead, what was I supposed to think! What was she, then? Can’t have been human.”

“That’s a secret,” Wilbur says cheerfully, as if he didn’t say something that might be pretty important. “Let’s go farm, Tommy!” 

The teen stands in shock, for a few seconds more, before shaking his head, muttering, “Yeah, okay, okay…”

Tommy pushes  _ that _ conversation to the back of his head as he continues with the farm work, ignoring how his temples pulse with pain and sweat runs down the back of his neck. It’s still hot, the fire is still going in some parts of the field even if most of it has died down. It’s almost unbearably so. It almost reminds him of the Nether, the overbearing, dry heat of hell that Tommy sometimes just sits in to feel closer to home. 

He digs the hoe into the ground over and over and over. He needs to fix the field. He needs to stop thinking about things that make his head hurt and his heart ache with longing. 

He needs to do this so he can show Dream he doesn’t fucking need  _ him _ . 

* * *

Tommy thinks he’s getting sick. 

For the three days since his farm was burnt down, he has been working non stop to clean everything up. He burned his hands more than once picking up the still-smoldering plants, and there’s an ever present migraine building behind his eyes, but he can’t stop working. He doesn’t want to stop. 

But his hands shake as he kneels in the overturned dirt and tries to plant wheat seeds. They keep shaking, and he feels cold even though the sun is showing overhead because it’s about noon. He thinks, vaguely, he’s going to maybe throw up, as he shoves his fingers into the wet ground, and tries to ignore that feeling of nausea as he slowly stands, swaying in place. 

“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice drifts over, since he was apparently back to hanging around, and he sounds concerned. “Are you alright? Would you like some blue?”

Tommy screws his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck off, Wilbur. I don’t want the- I don’t want any blue.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur is closer now. A sliver of opened eyes reveals his ghostly form is floating a few feet away, on the edge of the field. 

“Yes,” Tommy bites out, rubbing his eyes as he trudges through his plants, leaving the bag of seeds and his hoe abandoned on the ground. “I’m fine, Will.”

“You look pale,” Will says. 

Tommy ignores him, eyes set on his tent both lovingly and sarcastically called  _ tnret _ , even as his vision blurs and swims before him. The sun is beating down on him, bright and all-consuming and it makes his migraine worsen by the minute. He thinks he can hear Wilbur talking, in that soft - unfamiliar - tone he always does, but none of the words stick in his mind. He can’t register anything except the sun shining down on him, and the soft feeling of his makeshift bedroll in the tent when he collapses in it. 

He’s not okay, he thinks. 

“Tommy,” Will says. He’s leaning over Tommy, a transparent hand laid over the teen’s forehead. “Are you sick?”   


Tommy shifts, turning his head away despite the icy hand not even bothering him. His own chills had left, replaced with a burning heat that leaves him sweating even though today isn’t even hot. He wants to be left alone. He’s probably just feeling sick because he’s been working too hard - that has to be it. He’s just pushed himself too hard. If he gets some rest, he’ll be okay, right?   


“Are you sick?” Wilbur repeats, voice more worried, and Tommy finally feels compelled to respond. 

“Yeah, I think so, big man,” he mutters, staring dully at the white wool that serves as the tarp for his tent. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” the ghost asks, and he can feel ghostly touches caressing his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. 

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t want to ask for help. He hates asking for help, admitting he couldn’t do everything on his own. He’s strong, he’s the big man, you know-

“Water,” he still says with a weak voice. He winces when it cracks as he adds, “please, Will.”

Though he isn’t looking at him, his brother nods at the corner of his vision. “Okay, Tommy. I’ll be right back.”

Tommy hums in response as Wilbur drifts out of the tent, closing his eyes. He just needs some rest, and he’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no tomathy is sick... whatever will he do :( kudos and comments are appreciated, i hope the chapter has been enjoyable!   
> i always listen to a song or two on loop when writing so for who may be curious, today it is father by the front bottoms


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding the canon divergence tag lol . how yall feeling after those streams lately im fucking dead i think  
> i posted a tubbo centric oneshot a few days ago and itd be cool if some of yall would read it! its a canon divergent fic if uh tommy went thru with you-know-what, so somewhat angsty. theres ghostinnit. it's called little talks

Tommy is not fine. 

He knows this, as he drifts in and out of consciousness, drinking the water Wilbur gives him when he’s awake and sleeping for the rest of the time. He’s sick, with the flu or some shit, and he isn’t doing okay. Maybe if he had a real home, with a fire going to keep him warm, he’d be doing better and up in no time. 

His small tent does little to keep out the wind and rain, as the woolen tarp gets soaked through, as water drips down onto him. He’s cold and he curls up in his little bedroll, under his thin blankets, but they give no reprieve. At least Wilbur stays with him, through all of his coughing and dry heaving and sobs - his body keeps trying to make him vomit, but nothing comes up, he doesn’t have anything in his stomach to even puke up. 

One night, he’s awake - he woke up at dusk and couldn’t go back to sleep, he keeps shivering and coughing and he has another migraine. He hates it. He wants to die. He feels like he might. Wilbur is there, still, threading his fingers through his hair and it’s cold but Tommy welcomes it, better than nothing.    


“You’ll be okay, Tommy,” Wilbur tells him, over and over, his voice soft and quiet. 

“Will,” Tommy mutters at some point, voice scratchy and rough. “I think I’m dying.”

Wilbur laughs, high and reedy. He was nervous. 

“No, tommy,” he says. “Don’t be melodramatic. You’ll be fine.”

“I think I'm dying,” Tommy repeats louder. His head hurts so much. 

Wilbur doesn’t reply that time. 

“Will,” the teen calls again. His voice cracks. He feels like he’s going to start crying again. “Wilbur. Am I going to die?”

“I don’t know,” Wilbur says, softly. “I don’t know. I can’t- I don’t know how to help.”

Tommy sniffles, a quiet sob coming out of his mouth. 

“I should get Technoblade,” Wilbur murmurs as he runs his cold fingers through Tommy's hair. “But I’m afraid, Tommy. I don't want to get lost and forget. I do that so much.”

A crack of thunder - it’s raining again. Water drips through the wool of the tent, onto Tommy, onto Wilbur. The ghost flinches as his skin sizzles. 

“I can’t go out anyway, I’ll melt,” he murmurs. 

Tommy shifts, opening his eyes to gaze out of the opening of the tent. “Will,” he says, quiet. 

The ghost hums in response. 

“I’m okay with dying, I think.”   


A pause. Then, “Don’t say that, Tommy,” Wilbur says gently. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go get someone once it stops raining and you’ll be alright.”   


“Okay, Will,” Tommy mumbles. 

He closes his eyes. 

* * *

When Tommy wakes up, he’s not sure what time it is, just that the sun is shining overhead and Wilbur is gone. It takes a full minute to register,  _ Wilbur is gone _ , and his head is pounding and his mouth is dry and he sits up just to lean over and throw up bile on the ground. He’s shaking, he dimly realizes, and he’s so fucking cold. He’s too thin to properly warm up anymore. 

He lies down again, rolling onto his side, drifting off into unconsciousness. He hopes Wilbur comes back soon. 

* * *

He wakes up at some point during the night. He can’t see the moon, doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s dark and he hates the dark. His head still hurts, but he feels like he’s dying of thirst so he slowly, surely, gets up. 

Tommy stumbles out of the tent, cringing as a cold breeze strikes him, and slowly makes his way towards Logstedshire proper. He needs water, he needs food, and he’s decided he’s not going to die despite Wilbur abandoning him. He refuses to give in. 

Tommy Innit never goes down without a fight. A blessing and a curse, he thinks sardonically. 

He throws up more bile on his walk, but at least he’s able to. A thought worms its way in - did Will get lost, is that why he’s still gone? Surely he would’ve been back by now. 

_ Or _ , a nasty little voice that sounds too much like Dream said,  _ maybe he just decided to go back to New L’Manberg. Leave you to die. _

Tommy grimaces. Wouldn’t be a surprise. Dream is the only one to put up with him anyway - even if he hadn’t been around for a week, or so. It doesn’t matter. 

He eats a small meal, drinks some water - he throws it all up into the ocean. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, he keeps telling himself that as he stumbles back to the tent, he’s fine he won’t die, even if he’s on his last life, even if he’s weaker than ever. He refuses. He can’t. He’ll be fine, he just needs more rest. He just needs Wilbur back. 

Tommy collapses to the ground just outside his tent. 

* * *

He thinks he hears voices at some point. He doesn’t know what time it is. 

He feels himself being picked up - is that someone apologizing to him? - and carried to somewhere else. 

He doesn’t have the strength to struggle, he doesn’t care about whoever it is that’s taking him. 

Tommy drifts off. 

* * *

When Tommy wakes up, he feels groggy as he cracks open his eyes. There’s a ceiling above him, an actual  _ ceiling _ , and for a moment his breathing quickens because he doesn’t know where he is, is he in L’Manberg? Dream is going to kill him. Dream is going to  _ kill him _ . 

He shoots up out of the bed he was apparently lying in, stumbling, barely paying attention to his surroundings and crashes to the floor. 

“Aw, fuck,” he mumbles. His vision is swimming. 

And then there’s footsteps below him - there’s a ladder that leads to a lower floor, he spies out of the corner of his eye, and Tommy is panicking again because what if he really is in L’Manberg? He doesn’t want to get caught. He tries to sit up, slipping once, twice, before managing it, just as someone climbs up. 

He nearly stops breathing. 

“Tommy, what are you doing?” a deep, gruff voice snaps at him, because it’s fucking Technoblade, in all his glory. Just in a more casual tunic than usual, with his pink hair disheveled and in a bun, with glasses perched on the end of his nose just to top it all off. 

Holy shit. 

“You look so fucking domestic!” Tommy crows. 

Technoblade doesn’t have the gall to look embarrassed, he just shakes his head and sighs. “Get back in the bed, Tommy.”   
“No, why did you kidnap me, bitch? We aren’t in L’Manberg, are we?” the teen shoots back, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’m a war criminal, why would I be there?” Techno retorts. “We’re in the tundra. Get back in bed, you’re sick.”   


“I dunno, I feel much better. Think I could kick your ass still.”   


“Bold as ever.” 

“You know it, bitch.” Tommy does actually feel much better, and there’s a vague taste of cherries and melons on the back of his tongue. Did Techno give him a healing potion while he slept? 

He makes a face at that thought, and tries to stand up and- there he goes, crashing to the floor again. 

“Ow.”   


Technoblade snorts, coming forward, easily picking up the teen and dumping him onto the bed.    


“Idiot.”   


“Whatever,” Tommy grumbles. His head is spinning. “Why the fuck did you kidnap me?”   


“Wilbur told me you needed help. I’ll be back soon,” is all Techno says before he leaves, sliding down the ladder without another word. 

Tommy lets out a groan of frustration. At least he feels better now. A little well rested. Though it does nothing to quell the growing pit of anxiety in his stomach despite how he tries to ignore it. Dream is going to find out he’s gone soon, and Techno will probably just give him back. He doesn’t really want to stay, anyway, but- he hates Dream. He hates Logstedshire. 

He doesn't really know if he wants to go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not the happiest with this chapter but its done and thats what matters  
> i hope yall enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me trying to act like it hasnt been like three weeks since i updated... haha oops sorry <3 i really will try not to do that again but no promises heart emoji

As it turns out, Wilbur really had gone for help, is what Techno tells Tommy when he comes back up with a glass of water and a plate with chicken and soft bread. 

“He showed up here in the dead of night,” Techno mutters, sitting in a chair beside the bed. “I could barely understand what he was trying to tell me, I think he forgot what he was doing on the way here.”

Tommy chews on his piece of chicken thoughtfully. The thought of Wilbur, Ghostbur, wandering aimlessly through the frozen tundra trying to find something, but couldn’t remember what - his heart aches. 

“You didn’t have to come get me, you know,” he points out, glancing at his brother, voice low. 

Technoblade’s mouth twists in some form of a grimace. “I’m perfectly aware, Tommy.”

“How’d you even know to come to me? Since Will forgot or some shit.”   


“He got the message well enough across,” Techno explains, waving his hand as he talks. “Seemed worried about somethin’, and I figured out it was probably  _ you _ .”   


There’s something in his tone Tommy can’t quite glean. He imagines- it has to be annoyance, pity maybe, right? Techno probably only took him back here because he felt bad, and didn’t want to make Wilbur even more upset. He can’t think of any other reason. They may be brothers in name, but in practice, they were practically strangers. 

Tommy eyes Techno, finding nothing given away in the other’s expression either. It doesn’t help his internal monologue one bit. 

“Well, I’ll be off soon as I can then,” Tommy mumbles, gaze on the plate of food in his lap now. Despite the insults he barked out the moment he woke up, he can’t find the energy in him to keep it up now. “Dream won’t be happy to see me gone.”

He hears Techno snort in derision. “You shouldn’t care what Dream thinks.”

“I don’t, I just-” Tommy falters, the words dying on his tongue. He feels incredibly uncertain, anxiety fueling his beating heart and he carefully sets down the fork he holds in his shaking hand. “I just…”

He can feel Techno’s calm gaze burning into him. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he breathes out. 

“Doesn’t it?” Techno asks, quiet. 

Tommy glances at his brother, seeing him regard him with a strange, calculated glint in his eye. He has to force himself to take a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten, as if his lungs are trying to fail him, make him choke. 

“It doesn’t,” Tommy says, more firmly. 

Technoblade hums. “Okay, Tommy.”

The awkward conversation dissolves into silence. Tommy picks at his food, not really feeling too hungry anymore. He’s already thinking to himself about Dream, praying that the man hasn’t visited Logstedshire while he was gone. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been away, but it can’t have been long. 

Long enough for Dream to visit and figure out he was gone, though. 

He doesn’t even want to know what kind of punishment he would get if he’s caught away. He knows he’s not supposed to leave that area, he  _ knows _ , and yet he’s still sitting in Techno’s bed, picking at this bread, waiting to get caught. He needs to leave.

But there’s a question nagging at the forefront of his mind that he needs to ask first. 

Tommy picks off a piece of the bread’s crust, eyes focused on the crumbs that fall onto the plate. “So, Technoblade,” he starts, “where’s Ghostbur?”

Technoblade makes a surprised noise, as if he wasn’t expecting that question. “I’m not… sure, exactly.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy frowns.    


“He disappeared after I brought you back here. I genuinely don’t know where he went.”

His eyebrows furrow.    


“What the fuck?” he says, lifting his head to look at Techno. “He’s fucking gone?”   


Technoblade grimaces again. “He’ll probably turn up, Tommy, he-”

“He’s gone,” Tommy repeats, cutting him off, lips twisting into a scowl. He can already feel the headache coming on. “So you’re saying that fucker left me?”

“Tommy,” Techno starts, swiftly being interrupted once again. 

“I thought, I thought-” Tommy groans, balling his hands into fists. Words spill out of him as he forgets Technoblade is right beside him, as for a moment it feels like he’s alone again, talking to himself. “I thought he was going to fucking stay with me, but  _ no _ , that dickhead’s got to leave too, I always- I keep making everyone fucking leave-”   


“Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” Technoblade suddenly snaps, and he freezes up. 

“I-” Tommy starts, and then stops, biting his tongue. He feels like if he answers that question, he’ll end up saying some things he’d rather keep private. 

But Techno is staring, tired red eyes focused on him, so he forces himself to look away, finding the wall much more interesting. His hands fidget in his lap, pulling at the skin on his knuckles, digging his nails into his wrists. 

“Tommy,” Techno says, again, warningly.    


“It’s nothing,” Tommy mumbles, then clears his throat and repeats louder, “It was nothing, Techno. Forget I was saying anything.”

If he were to look up, he would probably catch the incredible skeptical look on his brother’s face right about now, and spill everything in his head out of guilt. But Tommy forces himself to keep staring at the wall, mentally tracing the rough patterns in his wood, hoping that he doesn’t get called out. His heart is racing, too fast, and he thinks if it were to go any faster he'd die the same way Schlatt had months ago.

“Okay, Tommy,” Technoblade eventually replies, very surprisingly acquiescing. 

Tommy lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, glancing at his brother in shock. 

Techno continues on. “I’ll let you know if I see Wilbur around. He’s done this before, where he disappears and comes back, right?”   


“Uh… yeah, I guess so.” Tommy hesitates, then clarifies, “He did that recently- when he went away and came back, uh, before I got sick.”   


“I’ll let you know, then,” Techno repeats, standing up now. “Get some sleep, Tommy.”   


“I’m not tired.”

Techno lifts the plate of half-eaten food out of Tommy’s lap, seeming to give it a distasteful glance. “You’re still sick, you need rest. At least lay down.”

Tommy huffs, but reluctantly does as told. He feels a wave of tiredness wash over him the second his head hits the pillow, and tries his best to fight it off out of spite against his brother. Despite that, he falls asleep, only seeing Technoblade quirk his lips amusedly as he turns away. 

* * *

When Tommy wakes up, Wilbur is floating over him, their faces inches away from each other. 

Tommy lets out a screech, batting his arms towards his dead brother, only to see his limbs pass straight through. 

“Tommy!” Wilbur coos, not seeming bothered. “Techno told me you were sick, are you okay?”   


“I- yeah, I’m fine, Will,” Tommy stammers with wide eyes. “You were the one to bring me here.”   


Wilbur pauses, a strange look passing over his eyes, gone as quick as it came. “Oh. I forgot!”

“Yeah…” Tommy grimaces, sitting up as Will floated a few feet away. “You’re back awfully quick, by the way.”   


“I just needed a short nap, I think,” Wilbur says cheerfully. “I do that sometimes. Don’t you?”   


Tommy bites back a sharp remark. His head hurts already. “I’m not a ghost, Will.”

“Oh, right.” Wilbur nods. “Well… do you want to go downstairs? Techno told me to tell you he’s making food.”   


“Huh?” Tommy blinks, and as he focuses he can hear quiet footsteps and the sounds of something being cooked on the stove from below. “Yeah, I’m real fuckin’ hungry.”   


Wilbur claps his hands, and without any fanfare phases through the floorboards. Tommy huffs, and takes the decidedly less cool way of sliding down the ladder. He stretches  once he reaches the downstairs, letting his joints pop with several satisfying  _ crunches _ . Nice. 

“Glad to see you walking,” he can hear Techno remark from behind him. 

“Like that’s surprising,” Tommy retorts, turning around to catch his brother’s eye. “I’m fine now, I don’t feel awful no more.”

Technoblade shrugs, not disagreeing but based on his expression, he certainly didn’t believe a word the teen said. “Sure, Tommy.”   


Tommy just scowls, trudging forward to the small eating table, unceremoniously slumping into one of the chairs. In the corner of his eye he could see Wilbur at the window, watching the snow flurry outside.    


“Is it snowing?” Tommy asks, resting his elbows on the table.    


“A little bit,” Techno grunts. He seems to be cooking eggs. “But it’s always snowin’ out here.”   


“Yeah, I guess, since we’re out in the tundra an’ shit…” Tommy mumbles. 

A few minutes pass with relative silence - Tommy lost in thought, thinking about how soon he’ll need to leave, he can’t be gone from Logstedshire for too long - before a plate is dumped onto the table, startling him out of his thoughts. 

“The fuck?” Tommy flinches, cursing at himself for doing so, as he glares up at Techno. 

His brother just shrugs, gesturing to the plate of eggs and toast. “Breakfast.”   


“No bacon?” Tommy taunts, grinning at the displeased glare he gets in response.    


“I refuse to engage in cannibalism.”   


“You’re not even actually a pig!” 

“That’s not the point,” Technoblade counters, letting out a chuckle. A heartbeat of silence, then; “By the way…”

Tommy picks up a fork, stabbing at his eggs as he raises his eyebrows at his brother. 

Technoblade reaches out, ruffling his hair suddenly with a oddly genuine smile. 

“Welcome home, Theseus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was actually going to make ghostbur straight up gone for like a While but i dont want to be mean so he will vibe   
> hope yall enjoyed despite the wait :)


End file.
